


Spring Breezes

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before her marriage to Turgon, Elenwë must get to know her soon-to-be sister in law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Breezes

“Come on” said Irissë, taking Elenwë’s arm with a conspiratorial smile “let’s leave everyone to their tea and small talk for a while. No one’s shown you around the palace gardens yet, have they?”  
“No,” admitted Elenwë. “But I’m supposed to be…”  
“Meeting the court ladies?” Irissë surveyed Indis’ garden party with a frown. “Plenty of time for that once you’ve married Turno, I should say. You’ll have your whole life for introductions and pleasantries and little teacups and violet cakes.”  
Elenwë gave her a sidelong glance. “And no time for seeing the palace gardens?”  
“Ha! You’re learning. No, I admit that was but a thin veil for my true purpose, which was to take you away from this dull gathering, and learn all I can about my soon-to-be-sister. Not to mention to satisfy my curiosity as to what manner of a woman would voluntarily fall in love with my brother.”  
Elenwë smiled. “Ah, so your true purpose is revealed.” A stiff breeze tugged at Irissë’s shawl and Elenwë caught it before it blew away, wrapping it neatly around its owner’s shoulders again. “Very good then, let’s go. I have little to no interest in gardens, but I too am intrigued by my soon-to-be sister.”  
They walked arm in arm, small-heeled boots clacking against the paved path for a while before Irissë led Elenwë off the paved track and onto a rolling green lawn. The ground was still slightly damp, and their boots sunk into it a little, although not enough to slow them down. “The hem of your dress is trailing in the mud” commented Elenwë as Irissë took off ahead of her at a jog, hitching up her skirts and holding her shawl to stop it blowing away again. “Although I suppose you know that already.”  
“I know!” called Irissë over her shoulder. “Come join me!”  
Elenwë grinned despite herself and began to run, catching up with Irissë easily. “Whiter than the snows of Taniquetil” she said, looking at Irissë’s dress appraisingly “or at least it was…”  
“Let me guess, if this were Ingwë’s court I would be sent home in disgrace?” laughed Irissë, turning around to look at Elenwë. They had reached a little ornamental brook flanked by weeping willows, their branches trailing in the sparkling water.  
“That was not what I meant to say” said Elenwë levelly. “I meant to say that it’s lucky we showed my father Turukáno rather than you as a representation of your family, otherwise I would despair of being allowed to marry him at all.” She smiled cheerfully. “Not that I wouldn’t have found a way despite that, I daresay.”  
“That’s the spirit” said Irissë approvingly. She had sat down on the bank, and pulled Elenwë down beside her. “Come, you’re going to need some more grass stains if you plan to pass for a true woman of the house of Ñolofinwë.”  
“I would wear them with pride” said Elenwë dreamily, lying back on the grass next to Irissë, who had begun picking the small yellow flowers that lined the bank. She closed her eyes, letting the dappled Treelight filtering through the branches above play across her face. Her clothes were too warm, made for the snowy slopes of Taniquetil, she realised. Without sitting up she shrugged off her neat little fur-trimmed half-cape and cast it aside.  
“You truly love him?” Irissë’s voice broke into her thoughts, even as she felt sleep beginning to slip over her.  
“Yes” said Elenwë simply, without opening her eyes, for she did.  
“Good” Irissë’s voice was decisive.  
“That’s all you have to say on the subject?”  
Irissë sounded slightly impatient. “Is there anything else to say on the subjst?”  
“I suppose not.”  
When Elenwë opened her eyes, it was to see Irissë leaning over to place a crown of yellow flowers on her head, but as Elenwë sat up suddenly, it fell off into her lap, the top of her head knocking against Irissë’s jaw.  
“Ah!” cried out Irissë, running her fingers over her chin briefly. “I’m sorry.”  
“No harm done” reassured Elenwë, picking up the crown of flowers and placing it atop Irissë’s flyaway black curls. But it began to come apart in her hands, and had soon slipped down over one of Irissë’s eyes, dropping petals all over her. Irissë laughed, but the laugh quickly turned into a sneeze, causing them both to laugh harder.  
When their laughter subsided, Elenwë brushed the petals from Irissë’s dress softly. “Now, one would think” she began, chuckling softly “that if flowers made one sneeze, one would not make them into crowns… or is that perhaps another odd Ñoldorin custom?”  
A tiny smile curved Irissë’s full lips. “My dear Elenwë, the poor unfortunate residents of Tirion are clearly all in desperate need of your ample good sense.”  
“Oh, I plan to administer it in large helpings.”  
“Good. With Turno your first test subject, naturally?”  
“Naturally.” She got to her feet and reached out to pull Irissë up beside her, but as she did so, another sudden breeze caught Irissë’s shawl, plucking it from her grasp. They both watched the wind lift it higher, until it was out of sight.  
“There goes that” said Irissë flatly. “Terribly impractical pieces of clothing, those things, but they are the fashion in Tirion, I am sorry to have to inform you.”  
“Would you like me to chase after it for you?” said Elenwë, bowing a little mockingly.  
“No” said Irissë suddenly, leaning against the knotted trunk of the willow. “I am enjoying your company far too much for you to go off on a hopeless quest quite so soon.”  
Elenwë shrugged. “Your loss.” She leaned back against the tree trunk beside Irissë, the smallest fingers of their hands just brushing each other against the bark. “And you?” she asked, curious. “Turno says you are not betrothed, nor does he know of anyone that you have in mind…”  
Irissë snorted. “Believe me, if I did have some great secret love, our beloved Turukáno would probably be the last person in the world I would let in on the conspiracy.”  
Elenwë smiled, and did not move her hand. “I thought as much… you seem terribly… disinclined towards love in the traditional sense, if I may say it.”   
“Disinclined towards marriage, certainly” answered Irissë, closing the gap between them fractionally. “But love, I tend to think, is a rather different matter.”  
“It does not have to be. I love your brother, and I am going to marry him. In this case they are once and the same. I suppose it’s a matter of personal taste in definitions.”  
“In this case.” Irissë repeated the words, scrutinising Elenwë’s face now. “Forgive me” she said, although she appeared completely unabashed, “I am still merely trying to get the measure of what you may be.” She frowned, her mouth a little open. Her face was less pale than her Turukáno’s, Elenwë noticed, and rounder, but Irissë had the same expressive mouth, and the same thick, dark eyebrows, quick to furrow into a frown or a smile. Now Irissë’s eyes were straying to Elenwë’s hair, coiling a tendril around her finger thoughtfully. “Vanyarin gold” she said, looking troubled. “You will be welcomed by some here, I fear, but not by all.”  
“And you? Will you… welcome me?”  
Irissë looked up into her face – for Elenwë was a little taller – and tilted her head back slightly, a slow smile spreading across her lips, raising an eyebrow. “Guess.”  
Elenwë said nothing, but merely leaned forward, letting her eyes flutter closed and the wind lift their hair, mingling wisps of gold and black curls escaping from their braids in the spring air. Waiting for what she knew must surely come next.  
The kiss, when it came, was soft and brushing at first, just as she had expected, and she could not help but smile a little into it, not without a hint of smugness. Feeling her smile, Irissë frowned a little and deepened the kiss, drawing Elenwë close against the tree, and letting her tongue slip over Elenwë’s lip for a mere fraction of a second. She’s teasing me, thought Elenwë, or testing me. She wants to know if I’m good enough for Turukáno. Very well, I will play her game.  
Elenwë let a hand slip around Irissë’s waist, drawing her a little closer, and feeling Irissë smile, a smile that was really only an excuse to part her lips a shade and press them against Elenwë’s a little closer, letting their tongues slip past each other so very delicately.  
Irissë laughed a little, one hand slipping through Elenwë’s hair and the other tracing the outlines of the buttons on the front of Elenwë’s bodice. She pulled back a little, but only enough to whisper words, their eyes both still closed and their foreheads pressed together. “My sweet Elenwë, I can tell that you and I are going to be great friends.”  
Elenwë brushed a soft kiss at the corner of Irissë’s mouth. “I am certain of it. Now, remember that discussion we were having about love, marriage, and family, and the subtle gradations between…?”  
“Distinctly” pronounced Irissë, tightening her hand in Elenwë’s hair, impatient.  
“I mean to suggest” said Elenwë, letting out a small, involuntary gasp, “that we continue it… later.”


End file.
